


Silver Hands

by Enigmaticrose4



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8967397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigmaticrose4/pseuds/Enigmaticrose4
Summary: An evil deed done by a despicable sorcerer.  Rare fruit stolen from the King's garden.  An epic quest to seek redemption and find the one you love.  - Drarry Fairy Tale





	

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with the fairy tale 'The Maiden with Silver Hands' over a decade ago and, when I was given these prompts I immediately thought of this old fairy tale: smut, fluff, MCD, angst, au, No Gore, self harm, Violence is ok but not too explicit please. PAIN, make me hurt i want to cry. i love the boys but put em through through hell
> 
> So, here's my Secret Santa Gift to Tori, the organizer of the Drarry Secret Santa :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Long Ago and Far Away..._

Harry was in the back garden, weeding, when they came for him.

Uncle Vernon stood there, a twisted grin on his fat face and a handsome young man beside him.

“This is the boy?” the man hissed.

Uncle Vernon nodded, his entire body jiggling.  “Yes, this is him.  He’s definitely like you.  His hair grows as soon my wife cuts it.  Magic,” he spat, “just like his parents.”

The handsome man smiled, “Perfect.  Here is your reward.”

He gave a wave of his hand and a large sack of jingling coins appeared and deposited themselves in Uncle Vernon’s outheld arms.  He almost fell over the sack was so heavy.

Harry drew back, but was too frozen in shock to do anything more as the man approached him.  He knew his aunt and uncle hated him, but to sell him?

The man moved forwards and reached out to grab Harry’s hand.

“Argh!”

He jerked back, his hand beginning to smoke.  He spun and shouted at Uncle Vernon, “You didn’t tell me he had protections on him!”

His uncle stumbled backwards, “I didn’t know!  I swear it!”

The handsome man stared for a moment and then asked, “How old is he?”

“Fourteen summers, milord.”

“Fine.  I shall be back in three years.  The protections will be broken by then.  I want him in one piece, understand?”

Uncle Vernon nodded quickly, his eyes wide with fear.  Assured that his orders would be followed the handsome man turned on the spot and disappeared.

Uncle Vernon stared at the empty space for a moment, then turned and hurried inside, leaving Harry standing among the half-grown vegetables.

“Are you really magic?”

He jumped and looked over to see his cousin, Dudley, peeking out from the shrubs.  It amazed Harry that Dudley still fit in there, what with the way he ate.

“I-I don’t know.  I mean, Uncle Vernon was right, my hair does grow back quickly.”

Dudley looked around, making sure his parents weren’t in view, then slipped out of the shrubbery.

“Try something.  Here,” he pulled open a sack he was holding and took out a badly bent and scarred pewter plate.  “Can you fix it?  I’ve heard some mages can do that.”

Harry stared at the plate for a moment before taking it from his cousin.

It sat heavy in his hand as he ran his fingers over it.  At first it was only a damaged piece of metal, but, the more he touched it, the more he was sure it was something else.  

It was almost like…

Yes.

It was exactly like his hair.  He _knew_ it was supposed to be long and unmanageable, not short and hideous.  Just like this plate was meant to be solid and simple, not warped and scarred.

And, as he ran his hand over it one more time the plate shifted and changed, becoming like new.

Dudley gasped, and Harry smiled, feeling a sense of pride he’d never felt before.

Magic.

He had magic.

And Uncle Vernon had said his parents did as well.

He hated his aunt and uncle, but he suspected that the handsome man was worse.  After all, whatever these ‘protections’ were they had done nothing to keep any of the Dursleys from manhandling him.

And those protections would run out in three years, letting the man claim him.

A shiver of fear ran down his spine.

“Dudley, don’t tell your parents.”

The other boy nodded quickly, “I won’t.  But, in return, help me fix the rubbage I collect.  When I sell it I’ll give you some of the profit.  Enough so you can save to escape.” He gave a shudder,  “That man gave me the willies.  Besides, you’re family.  We don’t sell family.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “No, you just starve family and keep them in a cupboard.”

Dudley turned red and looked away, actually looking ashamed.

Harry sighed, ever since Dudley had started his apprenticeship he had begun slowly changing.  Mostly in good ways, thankfully.  Perhaps there was hope for his cousin after all.

“Alright, we have a deal.  Now I need to finish this garden before your mother gets home from the market.  Tonight we’ll work on the magic.”

Dudley quickly looked back at Harry, a smile transforming his usually unpleasant features to something Harry didn’t actually mind seeing.

“Good!  And mayhap practicing magic will help you!”

Harry sank to the ground and returned to his weeding, “Mayhaps.”

XXX

_Three years later…_

Once more Harry stood in the back garden, with Uncle Vernon and the handsome man looking on.  Though the man’s features had changed some, becoming almost snake-like around the eyes and nose.

“The protections are gone?” the man hissed.

Uncle Vernon nodded quickly, “They must be, milord.  He was born not three fortnights after the summer solstice.  Today marks the fourth fortnight.”

“Very good.”

The man approached quickly and made to grab Harry’s hand, but Harry was faster.

He raised his hand and twisted it, using the spell he had practiced with Dudley.  

The man couldn’t even touch him this time.  He shrieked and stumbled backwards.

“YOU FOOL!!!” He screamed at Uncle Vernon. “YOU TAUGHT HIM MAGIC!!!”

Uncle Vernon turned bone white and stumbled backwards, falling on his fat bottom when he tripped over his own feet, “I didn’t, milord!  I swear!”

The man was reaching out with one hand, but stopped.  He thought for a minute and then looked back over his shoulder at Harry.  His eyes narrowed and then he seemed to make his mind up.

“Well, lets see what else we can arrange as payment.”

With that he grabbed Uncle Vernon and disappeared.

Harry stared at the spot, his heart pounding in his chest.  He had hoped, practiced, and prayed, but he had never believed his magic was strong enough.

Trying to control his breathing and lower his heartrate he returned to work.  With his hands buried in the rich soil he felt the tension leave his body.  As he plucked weeds and tended young plants his shoulders relaxed.

His uncle reappeared about an hour later he looked extremely shaken.  As Harry watched he ran inside the house without a word.  

By the time the sun began to lower his hands were almost pure black from the dirt and he felt utterly relaxed.  He knew his magic worked now, and he had enough coins from his work with Dudley that he could leave in the morning and seek his own fortune.

The house was empty when he entered, but that didn’t worry him, quite often his aunt and uncle went out in the evening.

There was a small hunk of stale bread lying on the table, the same thing Aunt Petunia always left him when there were no real leftovers to eat.  He grabbed it and began wolfing it down, suddenly starving.  He was three bites in when the world went dark and he knew no more.

He awoke screaming.

His hands….

His hands were gone.

Bloody bandages had replaced them.

His magic...how could he use his magic?  He NEEDED his hands!

“I-I’m sorry, Harry.”

His breathing was coming so quickly that he barely heard his cousin.

“Father...Father said the Mage wanted me instead.  That he would...would…” Dudley gulped.  “So, mother said to cut off your hands.  So you couldn’t cast.  I told them not to.  Said you would keep me safe, but…” he let out a huge sob, “I’m so sorry Harry!!!  I tried!  But Father held me back while Mother…”

The words were slow to register, but when they did Harry was filled with such anger as he had never felt before.

He could understand his uncle selling him, it happened all the time to unwanted orphans, but for this….his own aunt…

He sat up abruptly, almost falling over, but Dudley steadied him.

“Take the bandages off.”

“But, Harry-”

“Take. Them. Off.”

Dudley gulped and then did as he was told.

Harry stared at where his hands had once been.  Then he took a deep breath and focused on his magic.  If he closed his eyes he could still see his hands, see them moving as he wanted.

Abruptly the pain ended.

He opened his eyes to see two smooth, fully healed stumps.

He swung out of bed and moved his arms again, picturing the finger movements.  His shoes slipped onto his feet and his clothes righted themselves.  He looked around to see he was in the small, spare bedroom.  It had probably been too much work to stuff him in his cupboard after they had drugged him.  He idly wondered where his hands were, but then he pushed the thought aside.

They were gone, nothing he could do about them now.

He cast another spell and his small traveling pack was beside him, filled with the coin and travel food he had been slowly hoarding.

“Harry…”

He took a deep breath, “I don’t blame you, Dudley.  In fact, you were right.”

Harry focused on his feelings for Dudley.  Their relationship had changed greatly in the past three years, he might even say he loved his cousin.  It was that feeling that he focused on as he cast.

When he was finished Dudley winced and rubbed the back of his neck, “That felt most odd.”

Harry reached out to lay a hand on the other boy’s forearm, but stopped when he remembered he had no hand.  Pain struck his soul at this reminder, but it burned away quickly in the face of his rage.  Rage at his aunt and uncle, at the strange snake man, and, finally, at his own stupidity for eating the bread.  He should have wondered what payment the snake-man wanted and looked into it more.

He took a deep breath, “No mage can touch you unless you will it.  Nor can they use magic on you against your will.  I can’t say the same for your parents.”

Dudley sighed, “They should never have tried to sell you.  Or done...that.” He waved his hands at Harry’s stumps.

“Thank you, Dudley.  Be safe and happy, I’m leaving.”

He stood up, the pack falling across his shoulders, resting against his hip.

He was almost out the door when Dudley called out, “Harry!  Wait!  The mage, he’s outside!”

Rage flared hotter.  Harry smiled, feeling magic course through his veins.

Dudley gulped.

“Dudley, get anything you care about out of here.  I can’t promise the house will be standing when I’m finished.”

His cousin nodded and jumped up, Harry moved aside and let him hurry across the hall to his own room.

Then, he slowly counted to a hundred.  

When he was finished he made his way out of the small house.  He ignored the backdoor, and instead, for the first time in his life, walked out the front.

The cobbled street was almost deserted this early in the morning.  Only three figures were visible, two practically cowering in fear while a third stood proudly.

Harry heard the back door swing open and Dudley run out.  He stepped out onto the front stoop, drawing the attention of the three people he now despised.

“Ah, the boy awakens.  Are you ready to accept your fate?”  As he spoke, the snake-man’s eyes lingered on the stumps that protruded from Harry’s threadbare jacket.

Harry stopped and looked between the man’s possessive gaze and his cowering aunt and uncle.

His rage burned even brighter as he raised his right hand up and pictured his fingers snapping.

“Yes, are you?”

Instantly the house behind him burst into flames.  His aunt and uncle screamed and fell backward to the ground, the snake-man actually gasped in surprise.

“Impossible!”

Harry ignored him and turned to leave.  His rage was so powerful, he wanted to rip the three of them to shreds, but he was no murderer.  His cousin was safe and the Dursley’s house was burning, along with everything his aunt and uncle had prized over him.

He was halfway up the street when the snake-man appeared in front of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he spat.  “You belong to me!  Me!”

Harry moved his mental fingers, strengthening his protections.

“I belong to no one.  Least of all you.”

“You’ve belonged to me ever since I gave you that scar!”  He pointed at Harry’s forehead and the lightning bolt shaped scar.  “If my nemesis hadn’t stolen you and spirited you away you would have been with me all this time!!!”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at him, “So?  Not my problem.”

Snake-man reached out a hand to try and grab Harry, but then let out a scream of agony as his skin began to smoke before he even made contact.

Harry shook his head, putting on a sad face as he kept his rage on a tight rein, “When will you learn?  You will never lay a hand on me or those I care about.  I don’t need hands to use magic.”

Snake-man said nothing as he glared and cradled his smoking hand.

Harry stepped around him and continued on up the street.  No one stopped him again as he went.  

No one noticed when he slipped into the woods outside of town and changed his appearance some.  His hair grew longer, his clothes repaired themselves, and his facial hair finally grew, giving him enough hair for a goatee that hid his features.

Thus changed, he began to walk.  He had no idea where he would end up, but he was willing to find out.

XXX

_Years later…_

King Lucius IV glared out at the gardens visible from his private balcony.

Someone had been stealing his apples.

“Crabbe!”

His huge manservant came running up, “Yes, your Majesty?”

“Go fetch the Head Gardener for me.”

“Right away, your Majesty!”

He watched his manservant hurriedly lumber off, then returned his gaze to the garden.  

As king, he was not allowed any vices, so his garden was the closest he came to one.  High walls surrounded the precious contents.  Rare fruit trees and even rarer flowers were artfully arranged around the place.  Most had been random gifts from exotic visitors, but several, including the emerald apple tree, had been sought out specifically by him.

He knew he would lose some of the rare fruits to animals, but no animal would steal fruit in this way.

The solid click of steel-soled boots crossed the polished marble floor behind him.  He scowled in annoyance, his gardener cared nothing for what steel would do to marble.

As he turned to face the offending man he fixed a scowl on his face.

“Snape!  I thought I said for you to never wear those boots inside.”

The black-clad gardner drew himself up to his most impressive height, looking down his hooked nose at his king.

“I apologize, your majesty.  But I was informed by your manservant that the matter was most urgent.  And,” he continued strongly, “if the reason I am summoned corresponds with my own discoveries this morning it is indeed most important.”

The king scowled, “Snape…”

Snape’s black eyes glittered, “As you wish, your majesty.”  The disrespect evident in the tone was clear, but no one would call him on it.  Severus Snape had been the late king’s milk brother.  He was a powerful mage in his own right and had sworn no oath of loyalty to the current king.  He was only head gardener because he wished to be.  His payment came in the form of rare plants, used in his own magical research.

Snape gave a twitch of his fingers and his steel-sole boots disappeared, replaced with a pair of soft-calfskin boots.

“Better, your majesty?”

“Yes, thank you.  Now, about my garden-”

“The culprit is somehow coming over the walls.  I have found footprints leading to the trees in question.  There are no marks on the wall at all to suggest climbing.”

The king frowned and turned to look back out at his garden.  From his vantage point the tall stone walls looked untouched.  As did the sharp wrought iron spikes upon the top.

“You suspect a mage?”

“If the fruit was simply taken I would, but as it was consumed here…”

He trailed off and the king nodded, “Indeed. Emerald apples only work when cooked.  To consume them raw…and so many…”

“Indeed.  I shall check with the sick houses today.  Perhaps a young child?  One not truly understanding their powers yet?”

The king sighed and nodded, “Yes, that is a strong possibility.  If you do find one, bring them to-”

“Mistress Parkinson for testing, I know, your majesty.  I am no novice.”

The king smirked at that, “Indeed you are not.  Though I do hope this child is my opposite.”  He gave a flick of his fingers and a little ball of fire appeared.  His hand twisted and it danced among his fingers before shooting into the roaring fireplace and disappearing among the roaring flames.  “We definitely need a Mage skilled in fixing things.”

Snape snorted, “Your Majesty just wants someone to repair the damage my boots have done to your floor.”

The king laughed rather mirthlessly,  “Oh, Snape, if only that were the only reason.  Now, I’ll see you tonight.  If you are unsuccessful we can spy on my garden this night and see if the culprit reappears.”

No humor was on the gardener’s face now, as he too remembered just why they needed a mage with powers opposite that of the royal family.  He gave a short bow, “Yes, Your Majesty.  I shall inform you if I find the mage.”

“Thank you, dismissed.”

Snape spun and walked out, his footsteps making no sound.  

The king watched him go and then turned to look once more at his garden.  A breeze spun through the garden, making the trees dance, captivating him for a moment.  He stared, transfixed and then a sound in the nearby chamber drew his attention back to reality.

He sighed and straightened his robes before crossing the slightly scarred marble floor.

His eyes closed for a moment before his posture straightened and a smile slipped onto his face.Then, carefully, he pushed the door open.

Time to say good morning to his children.

XXX

_That evening…_

No one would have recognized the king, dressed as he was in simple black work clothes, a knit cap covering his silver hair.

He was crouched behind some shrubbery, Snape beside him, as they carefully watched the wall to which the footsteps had lead.

They had been waiting for at least an hour by now, but there had been no sign.  The king shifted and tucked his hands deeper into his coat.  Snape had failed to find the mage, so this was their only hope.

He glanced up at the emerald apples glimmering in the moonlight.  Surely the mage had to be coming back.  They couldn’t have died, right?  Only two apples had been eaten, it took more than that, surely.

A harsh grinding sound ran through the garden, penetrating all the way to the King’s bones.  He gasped and jerked his gaze back to the wall.

The stones were shifting and moving as the wrought iron twisted itself.  When the noise stopped an elegant archway was now in the middle of his highly secure wall.

He gaped.

He heard Snape gasp beside him.  To have the power to do this…

All thought left his mind as the most beautiful creature he had ever seen walked through the archway.

This was no child.

No, this was a man.

A gorgeous man with long inky black hair tied back rather messily at his nape.  A few wild strands had escaped, falling across the man’s forehead, drawing the king’s attention to eyes that glittered in the moonlight.  Eyes as brilliant a green as the apples hanging from the tree nearby.  A well trimmed goatee framed his lips, making them look like a target the King wanted to hit.

As he watched in rapt attention the man walked over to the apple tree.  He looked around and then raised one arm. The sleeves of his coat were long and flared outwards, hiding his hands.  As the king watched the tree gave a shudder and then leaned down, moving a branch to place a glimmering apple right before the man’s face.  

His arm moved, the sleeve hiding what his fingers were doing, but a thin tendril of smoke appeared.

He was roasting the apple right there!

Then, delicately, the man leaned forwards and took a bite of the apple.  The king watched, mesmerized. And pearly white teeth sank into the apple, quickly followed by a pink tongue licking juices from extremely kissable lips.

He watched, mesmerized as the man finished off one apple, and then roasted and ate another.  The tree offering it to him willingly.

“He’s more than your opposite…” Snape whispered, unwilling awe in his voice.

The king nodded.  Most mages had a speciality, they could create, destroy, reinforce, or manipulate.  There were sub-specialities of each major one, but they were all, at their core, under the four main ones.

Malfoys were masters of destruction, but could barely do any of the other three.  Snape was a master of manipulation, but could also reinforce to a small degree.

This mage had manipulated the wall and tree to a masterful level, but had managed to create a roasted apple.  And there was something about him, perhaps it was the way his clothes looked as new and fine as the King’s, but he likely had more powers.

Snape stood quickly, the shrubbery moving out of his way with a mere flick of fingers.  The king rose to stand as Snape took two wide steps and reached out, his hand outstretched to grab the stranger by his shoulder.

The head gardener's hands had just brushed the well-cut coat when he let out a yelp of agony and stumbled backwards, cradling his hand.

The King did not think, he strode forwards, raising his hands and summoning fire as he moved into a fighting position.

“What did you just do to my gardener, thief?”

The mage turned, the clarity of his features and the strong expression on them sucking all the air out of the King’s lungs.

“I did nothing.  No one touches me without my permission.  And he’s no gardener.  He’s a mage.”

The man moved his arm, the loose cloth at the end of his coat flopping around, hiding his fingers from view.  Instantly Snape’s shoulders relaxed and he held up his hand.  He looked at it and then back at the stranger.

“How...you’re so young.  To do so many different things…”

The man shrugged, “I’ve never been young, but as for age, I am past my twenty-fifth summer.”

The king did not release his stance, but he did raise a quizzical eyebrow, “That does not answer how you managed to manipulate my wall and tree, create a roasted apple, reinforce Snape’s skin to heal the burns, and cast protections strong enough to keep Severus Snape here, a Master Manipulator, from even laying a hand on you.

The man’s head tilted curiously and he turned to study Snape, something flickering in his glittering eyes.  Then he shrugged and said, “No one ever told me I couldn’t.”

Snape drew in a sharp breath and the King looked at him. “Snape?  What is it?”

Snape shook his head quickly, as if to clear it, “Nothing, your Majesty.  He simply reminded me of someone that died long ago, that’s all.”

“Your Majesty?” The king found himself once again under that emerald gaze.

“Yes?”

“You don’t exactly look like a King.  I didn’t know kings wore knitted caps.  Nor that they sat around in gardens trying to catch an apple thief.”

The king scowled and lowered his hands.  Keeping a firm hold on the fire, completely unable to make it disappear.

The stranger sighed and then the fire disappeared, “You can’t get rid of it, can you?  Doesn’t that make life difficult?”

“I suppose it does, but as a Malfoy and the King I make due.  Now, you do realize it is a grievous offense to steal from the King’s private garden?”

The man shrugged, drawing the King’s eyes to his broad shoulders and how the coat fit them just right.  “Yes, but I needed food, fresh food, and you will scarcely starve due to my taking a few apples.  I even left the cores so as not to let you believe I was stealing seeds.”

The King was bewildered, “Fresh food?  Why-?”

It was Snape that answered.

“Your Majesty would not know this, as you have never gone hungry, but the power of a mage waxes and wanes with the quality and quantity of food consumed.  Two emerald apples every day would provide the same level of magic as an entire pot of soup and three loaves of stale bread at one of the poorhouses.”

The man nodded, “Indeed.  And if I took from there I would deprive those that have no other choice.”

“But, you are a Mage!  And a powerful one at that!  Surely you can find work?”

A sad smile twisted those delicious lips and tugged at the King’s heart and stole his ability to speak away.

“Your majesty, you are too kind, but no one will ever hire me.  For a variety of reasons.  Now,” he gave a low bow, “I shall make my way out of your garden and your life.  Do not fear for your apples, I shall take no more.”

He moved and the tree stood up once more, the two new dangling cores swinging in tandem with their untouched brethren.

The man was halfway to the archway when Snape moved and the shrubbery followed suit, blocking the man’s path.

“I cannot let you leave this garden without compensation for the King.  You took from him and returned nothing.”

The man stopped and turned around, he stared at Snape for a moment, then stared once again at the King.  

“You speak true, Master Snape.  How about this?”

His hand moved and a satchel appeared out of thin air.  A moment later it opened and a simple little box came out.  It floated over to the King.  He said nothing and simply took it.  Opening it he found a handful of small seeds that looked to be made of silver.

“These were found on my travels.  Given to me by an old and elegantly twisted tree on the far side of the smokey mountains, in the land I first came from.  I am certain the two of you will treat her children well.”

Then he turned and raised his arm up, the bag disappeared and the shrubs practically danced out of his path.

The king reached down and delicately touched one of the seeds.  He could feel the magic there, so strong it made him gasp.

“Wait!”

The man stopped, right beside the archway.  He turned around halfway and asked, “Yes, your Majesty?”

“Stay here, I will hire you.  We have need of a mage that can heal.  That can do what we Malfoys cannot.”

That sad smile returned, clearly visible in the silver moonlight.

“Your Majesty will not hire me, not after knowing why I am unhireable.”

The King walked forwards, barely aware of Snape taking the seeds from him and disappearing.  Likely to study them, the stranger now forgotten.

“Tell me why I would not hire a mage as skilled as you?”

The man said nothing, so he continued to move forwards, until he was a mere two feet away.

“I have only just met you, but I can tell that a mage such as you is more precious than those silver seeds.  More rare and valuable than any plant in this land or all others.”

Those emerald eyes glittered, as if tears were forming, but that could not be right.  Why would a mage cry when being praised?

“You-” he stopped and drew a deep breath, “-you are too kind, your Majesty.  But, who wants to hire a mage-” he faltered and looked away, “-a mage with no hands?”

He raised his arms and gave them a little shake, the loose cloth at the end of the sleeves fluttered and then fell backwards.

The king gasped and then felt his heart break.

Who would do this?

Who would cut off a mage’s hands?

And all the magic he had done…

How powerful would he have been if he had actual hands to focus the power?

“Who-who did this to you?!?  Tell me.  I will see them hanged!”

That made the man look up, once more meeting the king’s eyes.

“What-?”

“I said, who did this?  Who dared-”

The man shook his head, “Your Majesty is kind, but the deed is long done.  I have learned to live with it.  And that is not the only reason no one would hire me.  I can offer no name, not of my family, not of my teacher, not of my school.  I am nobody.”

All reason and logic left the King’s mind as the most heartbreaking expression appeared on the mage’s face.

“I care for none of that.  We thought the culprit was a child.  One that hadn’t yet learned to control their powers.  I was going to take them in and train them, give them a chance.  You need no names, your ability is evident in everything I have seen from you on this night.”

“Your Majesty, you-”

The king moved forward and unthinkingly put his hand out, pressing a finger to the mage’s lips, cutting him off.  Those beautiful eyes grew wide in shock.  And the King’s own grew wide as he realized that he had touched this mage without permission, but was not hurt like Snape had been.  Perhaps-yes-perhaps this could be more.  Mayhaps he could have what his parents had shared.  Perhaps this man would be able to do the things that he could not.

“Please, call me Draco.”

The shimmering intensified, and he was afraid the nameless mage would start crying.

“And, please, stay.  I fear I have never met one such as you.  No name is necessary.  Just tell me how to address you.”

He removed his finger and those lips began to move, “Your Maj-”

“Draco.”

His lips turned up, a hint of a smile as he said, “Draco, I think-think I can stay.  Maybe.  For a small while.”

Draco Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, known to his realm as King Lucius IV leaned forwards slowly and touched with his lips the same place his finger had been but a moment before.  

The kiss lasted for less than a second, but by the end of it Draco knew he would do whatever he could to ensure this man was happy.  

“What should I call you?”

The man hesitated, then he gave a small smile, “Call me Harry.”

“A common name, is it your real one?”

Harry shrugged and said nothing, so Draco stepped back and gestured to the palace, “Follow me then.  My housekeeper will be able to find you a suitable room.”

Harry nodded and moved his arm, the stump once again covered by the loose cloth.

As they walked up the pebbled path they were accompanied by the sound of stones grinding as the archway turned once more into a wall.  

XXX

_Three Months Later…_

Harry sat at the window, looking out over the snow covered garden below him.  

He really should move on, even he wasn’t magically strong enough to protect everyone here from what chased him.

He’d been a year gone from the Dursleys, believing himself safe, when he’d taken up living in a small cottage in the woods.  He’d made a living growing his own food and helping the surrounding villages.

It was there he had developed a coat to hide his lack of hands, so as not to cause undue rumours.

That had come back to punish him later.

The snake-man, who he now knew to be Lord Voldemort, a mage so powerful he had survived death itself.

And he did not take rejection well.

He had slowly, right under Harry’s nose, spread so many rumours that the villages had stormed his cottage, accusing him of black magic, believing only evil things would let a mage work with no hands.

He’d been so unwilling to hurt those he had spent over a year healing that he had almost failed to escape.

Since then he had never stayed in one place for more than a month.

Until now.

Until a smooth voice and pleading silver eyes had practically begged him to stay.

Draco.

King Lucius IV, the Mage King of Slythindor.

The man who had spent practically every free moment courting Harry over the past three months.

He looked away from the snow and at the cozy little room he was ensconced in.

It was small, but only because Harry had refused the larger rooms.  Besides, the view was breathtaking.

But the inside of the room was just as wonderful.  A thick, down filled mattress sat on the bed, the softest thing Harry had ever slept on.  And the blankets…

He didn’t think he had ever been so warm when going to sleep.

This room was so far removed from the cupboard he had grown up in, that he hardly felt worthy of it.

He was just Harry.

An orphan with only one relative he even gave a rat’s ass about.  And that relative was now so out of Harry’s reach, he doubted he would ever see Dudley again.

At least Dudley was safe from Voldemort.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, drawing his attention.

“Yes?”

“May I enter?”

The King’s strong voice carried well through the solid oak door.

“Of course, Draco.  It is your palace.”

The door opened and Draco entered before shutting it firmly again.

“Yes, but it’s your room.”

Harry stood up and shook his head ruefully, “You’re too kind to be a Mage King.”

Draco waved for him to sit back down and then took a seat on the same window bench, ensuring their legs were touching.

Even through two pairs of thick winter robes Harry could feel Draco’s heat.  It made his stomach flutter.  

He had to leave.  Had to end this.  Before Voldemort found him again.

Draco reached out and pushed some of Harry’s hair back behind his ears.

“I’m only nasty to my enemies.  And you, sweet Harry, are far from being my enemy.”

Harry blushed and looked away, at a loss of words.

Draco chuckled, “I actually came with a purpose.  You see, the neighboring Kingdom of Ravun has been poking at our borders, I fear they mean to invade come spring.  I need to go deal with this.  Remind the Ravunians that even the greatest library in the world still burns when attacked by a Mage King.”

Harry gasped, “You would burn books?!?”

Draco chuckled and shook his head, “No, I would steal the books and burn the building.  Just don’t tell the Ravunians that.”

That made Harry relax and smile, he couldn’t read, but he knew that books were precious.

“I won’t tell.”

“Good, now, I have a request to make of you while I’m gone.”

The sudden seriousness in Draco’s tone made Harry curious, though he knew Draco’s absence would be the perfect time to slip away.  Perhaps he could do this first, as a thank you.

“Anything.  What is it?”

“You know I have children, right?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, they, like me, have destructive magic.  They also developed it at a much earlier age than normal.  Well, the girls did.  I-I made a miscalculation when hiring a wet-nurse.  She-” he stopped and swallowed, such sorrow was on his face that Harry unthinkingly put an arm around the King’s shoulders, pulling him close.

Draco returned the gesture, giving Harry a tight squeeze before taking up where he had stopped.

“She hated magic, blamed a dark mage for her husband’s death.  So she purposefully neglected my children.  Did things when alone with them...I don’t even know what.  I just know it made them all miserable.  But Scorpius was only two and the girls were less than a year old.  They couldn’t tell me.  So-so they-” a sob wrenched itself out of the King’s chest and Harry drew him closer.

“So they used their abilities, right?  They defended themselves.”

Draco nodded against Harry’s shoulder, pulling him tighter.

“They burned her.  But they were infants.  They had no control.  They burned themselves too.  We did what we could, but they are in constant pain, with burn scars all over their skin. You- you know how rare the ability to heal is…”

Harry reached up to cradle Draco’s head, but stopped when he remembered he had no hand.  It had been so long since he had forgotten…

He lowered his arm to rest on Draco’s shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I arrived?”

Draco shrugged and pulled Harry closer, “Fears, I think.”

Harry sat there for a moment, enjoying the feel of Draco in his arms, and then he pulled back.

“How long ago did this happen?”

Draco reached up and wiped his face, “Three years.”

Harry frowned, “That will take a while to heal, but I think I can do it.  Let’s go see them.”

He stood up as he spoke and Draco leapt to his feet as well.

“You- you can do it?  You think you can-?”

Harry nodded and gave Draco a shy smile.

The next thing he new soft lips were being pressed to his own and he was pressed against a hard chest.  This was nothing like the gentle brush of lips that had occurred when they met.  No, this was all heat and passion, mixed with pure elation.

Harry melted, pulling Draco even closer, opening his mouth at the first touch of Draco’s curious tongue.

This was so wonderful, how could he ever leave?

XXX

_A Month Later…._

Harry grinned down at the little blonde head, “There we go.  How does it feel?”

Scorpius didn’t speak, he just raised his perfect little pale hands and touched Harry’s robes.  He gasped and then looked up at Harry, his eyes shining like the moon had been when Harry first met the boy’s father.

The smile on the boy’s face melted Harry’s heart.  No, he could never leave this boy, his sisters, or their father.

“It don’t hurt…”

A sob next to him made Harry look over at the Queen Mother.  There was such emotion there that he almost felt like an interloper.  

It was especially telling that Queen Narcissa did nothing to correct Scorpius’ grammar.

“Thank you!” Scorpius threw himself into Harry’s arms, holding him tightly.

Harry smiled and cradled the boy as close as he could with no hands.  “Your welcome, I’m glad I could help.  Now, why don’t I go work on your sisters?”

Scorpius hurriedly pulled away so that Harry could turn his attention to the two girls.  He then put himself in his grandmother’s arms and let her hold him close.

Harry focused on the girls, using all of his thinking power to try and heal them.  It was proving more difficult, as they had been so young when the damage was done.

“Scorpius, let’s go write your father,” Queen Narcissa said.  “And, thank you Mage Harry.  I have not been so happy in so long a time.”

Harry nodded, never looking away from little Carina’s hands.  “I wish he had told me sooner, I feel that these children had to suffer for an extra three months.”

Queen Narcissa stood and shook out her robes, “My son is very easily afraid of failure.  I believe he feared, most of all, you telling him that it was impossible to heal injuries so old.  We have not had a mage capable of healing here in many a year, and then she only stayed a year before leaving.”

“Oh?” Harry said, not really paying attention, “Why did she leave?”

“She got married, to another mage.  Mage Snape was devastated.  He loved Lily Evans, hoped she would marry him, but as soon as she laid eyes on James Potter...well, poor Mage Snape had no chance.”

Harry stiffened when he heard the names, but forced himself to nod, “Well, I’m glad I could help.  Healers are much too rare.”

The Queen Mother looked at him curiously and then took Scorpius’ hand and left the room.

Harry didn’t look up, his mind too busy fighting between working on Carina’s hands and accepting that his parents had been here, had somehow met in this very palace.

No, he couldn’t leave.  He was meant to be here.

XXX

_On the Road…_

A messenger trotted his horse down a country lane.  An important message from the Queen Mother to the King in his pack.  Come nightfall he found himself far from any village, so he stopped in a small clearing not far from the road.  He slept so soundly that he never noticed the noseless man arrive.  Never felt the letter being removed from his pack.  And, most importantly, never realized that the letter that was returned was quite different from the one that the Queen Mother had given him.

XXX

_On the Border…_

“Draco!  You got a letter from your mother!”

Draco looked up from the maps he’d been studying to see Pansy Parkinson standing in the opening of his tent.  She was the only person in the camp that had permission to call him by his given name.  

As was her right as his milk sister.

“Can you open it and see what it is?  I’m rather swamped at the moment.”

“With pleasure!”

She practically threw herself into one of his camp chairs and yanked the letter open.

A moment later she gasped in shock.

He looked up from the maps, “Pansy, what’s wrong?”

“Your mother...she says Mage Harry has lost it!  That-that somehow…” she stopped, unable to continue, her face bone white.

She held the letter up with a shaking hand.

Draco took it.

Upon reading the words his stomach sank as if it was filled with lead.  His heart broke, even as his brain tried to find a logical response.

“Maybe...No! Harry wouldn’t do this on purpose!  Something has gone wrong!  He’ll fix it!  I know he will!  Pansy, write a letter, straight away!”

She jumped up out of the chair, hurrying over to his desk and pulling out writing materials.

“Tell her that I have the utmost faith in Harry.  That I know he can fix this.  It must be part of the healing process.  A lack of all feeling to remove the pain.  That they will be able to use their hands again.  That they will be able to feel with their skin again.  She must offer Harry any and all support that she can, understand?”

Pansy nodded, her quill hurriedly scratching across the parchment.

Draco crumpled up the letter in his hand and set it on fire, he watched it burn with great satisfaction before tossing it in the brazier.

He would be home in a month, and then, if Harry hadn’t managed to repair the damage then Draco would help him.  They’d do this together, help his children.  Everything would be alright, it had to be.

XXX

_On the Road…_

The messenger once again found a comfortable clearing to sleep in.  Never knowing that the snake-man returned.  Oblivious to the original letter being read and then burned in disgust, only to be replaced by a far more terrible piece of parchment.

XXX

_At the Palace…_

Harry was sitting between the girls, making silver hands attached to his stumps move as they attempted to copy the movements.  Queen Narcissa had given him the hands to help with teaching the children.  They worked much better than the leather glove, stuffed with straw he had been using at first.

He knew that Draco said Malfoys could only destroy, but he’d looked into the family history of the children’s mother.  The Greengrasses were mostly Mages that specialized in creation or destruction, but a few had been healers.  And if they had any ability at all, if it was combined with his own, it should repair the nerve damage that made the girls feel only pain when touching something.  

The door slammed open, banging against the wall.

Harry jerked and looked up.

Queen Narcissa stood there, panic on her face and her hair falling out of her hairpiece.

She pulled Scorpius in behind her and slammed the door shut, bolting it shut with a wave of her hand.

“What-?”

“My son, Draco, he has lost his mind!  You have to leave, now!  And take the children with you!”

Harry stood up and crossed the room quickly, resting his silver hands on Queen Narcissa’s shoulders.

“What do you mean?  Draco loves his children!”

She shook her head, a wildness in her eyes.  “Mayhaps, but he is king first!  He has made an alliance with the Ravenians, is marrying their princess, but must ensure that their child is heir to Slytherdor.  He-he told me to dispose of you and them!  Dispose!!!  You must flee!  Understand?”

“But - Draco…”

Harry felt his heart breaking.

“No!  You don’t understand!  My son is a Malfoy!  He may be a good king and a good mage, but that has not always been so for his family!  They took this kingdom by spilling lots of blood!  They will do practically ANYTHING to hold onto power.  You _must_ flee!”

His heart snapped right then, it broke in two and clattered at his feet.

To think, that he had been so wrong…

This was worse than when his own aunt had cut off his hands.

So much worse.

“Alright.  Put together the children’s things and some supplies.  I will go pack my things.  We will slip out after dark.”

The Queen nodded and Harry felt the girls grab on tightly to Harry, heedless of the pain this caused them.  

He didn’t blame them.  They had to be feeling just as broken and unwanted as he was.

If not worse.

They were only three, they were innocent.

Sadly, the rage he had felt the last two times he had been forced to leave a place did not come this time.  No, he felt only black despair as he packed his things and gathered the children.  Only emptiness sat inside of him as he magically lifted the twins onto a shabby looking, but sturdy mule.  Scorpius would have to walk, a second mule would bring too much attention.

With everything settled he covered his silver hands with black gloves and gave his arm a wave.  A grinding started up, making his bones rattle.  When it was finished the same archway he had created but four months before stood before him and the children.

This time, no silver-eyed man stopped him from walking through.

XXX

_A Month Later…_

Excitement thrummed through Draco as he rode into the palace courtyard.  It was all he could do to maintain his dignity and not leap off his horse and race into the palace.  Especially as none of his family was in sight.

“It appears we do not merit a welcoming committee, your Majesty.”

Draco shot Snape a glare and merely swung off his horse.  As soon as his boots hit the cobblestones he strode off quickly.  Behind him he could hear Pansy shouting out orders.

He took the steps two at a time and headed straight for his private quarters.  Harry had to be in nursery with the children.  Perhaps he had managed to fix all the problems.  If not, Draco was home now, he would help.  As would Snape and Pansy.  Between them all anything was possible.

As soon as he pushed open the door to his sitting room he knew something was wrong.

The room was immaculate, but there was an air of disuse.  As if it had been unused since he had left.

Maybe Harry had moved the children closer to him?  To try and work things out?  He turned to go, but a cold voice stopped him.

“Well? Where is she?”

He spun back around and only then noticed his mother standing in the doorway to the nursery.

He frowned, “She?  Do you mean Pansy?  She’s outside, getting everything sorted.”

“No, not her!” his mother snapped.  “I mean the Ravenian princess!”

He was terribly confused, but a huge weight was beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What princess?”

“The princess you said you were wedding!  The one you wrote about!!!”

He winced and stepped backwards at the force of his mother’s words.

“What-what are you talking about?  I-I wrote about no princess…”

His mother stared at him, and then her hand flew to cover her mouth and she let out a heart-wrenching sob as she fell to her knees.  He rushed over to her, falling to his knees beside her.

“Mother, what’s going on?  Where is Harry?  Where are the children?”

“They-they’re gone.  Fled.”  She held up her hand and her fingers twitched, a well-crumpled piece of parchment appeared there.  

He took it and began to read.  By the time he finished he was in tears.

He had to go after them.  Forget his kingdom.  His mother could watch it.  Pansy and Snape would help her.  It was time Snape stopped burying his broken heart in the garden.

He had a family to find.

And a villain to destroy.  Because, obviously, someone had deliberately switched the letters.

He stood up and held out a hand to his mother.

“Come, we have many things to discuss if I am to go after them tomorrow.  Crabbe!”

His manservant spoke up from his constant, silent position behind Draco.

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“Go and ready supplies for two of us on a long journey.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

The man lumbered off and Draco helped his mother to her feet, handing her a handkerchief.  

“Do not fret Mother, I shall find them.  And then...then I will find who did this.  And I will _destroy_ them.”

To punctuate his words he summoned up a ball of lightning, the crackles and pops it made soothing his soul.

Whomever had done this had made a fatal flaw.

You don’t mess with the Mage Kings of Slytherdor.  Not if you wanted to live, that is.

XXX

_Years Later…_

Draco shivered and dropped the reins to tuck his gloved hands into his armpits.  Snow fell around, covering his poor horse.

“Crabbe, keep an eye out for shelter.  The snow is growing worse.”

“Yes, your Mageness.”

Draco snorted in that, he had ordered Crabbe to stop using his title, for safety’s sake, but he had a great deal of trouble learning a new one.  Still, at least he was loyal and dependable.

The continued onwards, toward the setting sun.  Draco heard a lone wolf howl and he gave an involuntary shudder.  He was so tired of traveling.  All he wanted was to be back in his rooms at the palace, with Harry beside and the children nearby.

The children…

How he missed them.  Hopefully Harry had helped them.  He knew the man would care for them, that was never a worry in his mind.

The sun sank below the mountain covered horizon, and that was when Draco saw it.  There, in a darkened spot of woods, shone the unmistakable glow of a home.

Apparently someone did live up here, in the Lupine Mountains.  Granted, they had come here chasing rumours of a powerful group of mages, but nothing was certain.  One rumour had even led him to a huge man that made his living carving delicate flowers and other designs into beautiful hardwood.  When Draco had asked about a black-haired man named Harry and three silver-haired children he had been thrown out and told to never return.  Something about slavery, family, and protecting one’s own had been in the mix of words thrown at him.  The strongly familiar protections against mages that Draco had felt made him sure that Harry had been there once, but he didn’t think he was there still.  Nor would the man share anything.  He was obviously loyal to man Draco was very sure he was in love with.

“Crabbe, over there!”  He pointed through the ever thickening snow.

“Yes, your Mageness.”

They slowly turned their horses and moved towards the light.  Being ever careful to avoid hitting a tree in the growing darkness.

The sunlight was entirely gone by the time they reached a rustic, but sturdy two-story cabin.  It struck Draco as odd that the windows contained real glass.  Perhaps they had found the mages.

He stopped his horse and slid off, giving it a friendly pat on the neck.  Crabbe followed his actions and took the reins from Draco’s frozen fingers.  He reached up and scratched at his chin. The beard he had begun growing on the road did a remarkable job of keeping his face warm - and making him look different from the face stamped on all Slytherdorian coins - but it itched terribly at times.

He moved forwards and knocked on the heavy wooden door.  There was no sound, only the jingle of the horses’ tackle.  

He knocked again, louder.

A snuffling noise came from the other side of the door, and then, rather abruptly, the door swung open to reveal a rather unkempt black-haired man.  Piercing eyes looked Draco over and he felt vaguely uncomfortable for a moment.

But then it passed and the man turned to call over his shoulder, “Remus! There are horses!  Take care of the humans.  I got the horses.”

He swung around again and gave Draco a wolfish smile, “Go on in.  Remus will take care of you.”

Before Draco could say a word the man slipped past him and took the reins from Crabbe.  Then, with a flick of his fingers, he and the horses disappeared.

Draco stared at the suddenly empty footsteps quickly refilling with snow and then swung back around when a sharp cough drew his attention.

“I apologize for my mate, Sirius is rather abrupt.”

The man who spoke was very well-groomed, but dressed in nothing but leather and fur.  Still, he had a friendly smile and gestured Draco inside.

Draco gave his hands a shake to ensure they were limber, and then stepped inside, Crabbe behind him.  The cottage was as small as it had looked from the outside.  It consisted of one room  with a large stone fireplace set into one wall.  Cooking utensils hung from the mantle and a sturdy table with several three-legged stools was beside a ladder leading up to the second floor.

A massive wolf pelt lay across the floor directly in front of the fire., Draco found himself gaping at the size of the pelt, it must of come off a gigantic wolf.

“Ah, yes, Greywolf.  He’s a much better floor covering than he ever was a wolf - or a man.”

Draco reflexively took a step back, bumping into Crabbe, “A man?  He was a man AND a wolf?”

“Yes, and the nastiest piece of work the Dark Lord ever created.  The world is a better place without him in it. Now,” he moved over to the fireplace and gestured at the table and stools, “why don’t you two take a seat while we wait for Sirius to return?  I’m sure he will want to hear why you two are wandering around the Lupine Mountains on the longest night of the year.  You can hang your gear on the pegs behind you.”

He gestured at the wall beside the door and Draco notice a row of pegs jutting out of the log wall.  He busied himself by stripping off his damp outdoor gear, Crabbe attempted to assist him, but Draco brushed him off.

“Crabbe, take care of yourself first.”

“Yes, your Mageness.”

That drew a curious glance from the buckskin-clad man, but he said nothing as he began serving stew from a pot Draco could have sworn was not there when he entered the room.

He had just taken a seat at the small table when the black-haired man, Sirius, reappeared in the middle of the room.  To Draco’s surprise he looked completely warm and dry.

“There we go, got the horses bundled up safely.  Here.” He held the saddlebags out to Crabbe, who took them; setting them neatly on the floor by the door before taking a seat.

“We thank you for your hospitality,” Draco said formally as a bowl of stew was laid before him.

Sirius chuckled and plunked onto the stool next to Draco, “Don’t thank us yet.  Now, my name is Sirius and my mate here is Remus.  This is our cabin and as we rarely have visitors I am quite curious about you.”

“Still, we thank you.  I am Draco and this is my manservant, Crabbe.”

“He’s a mage,” Remus said, taking his own seat.

Sirius looked at Draco sharply, “A mage?”

Draco nodded, “Yes, as I see are you.  Do we have a problem?”

“With who does your allegiance lie?” Sirius asked.

Draco frowned in confusion, “With myself.  I answer to no man or woman.”

“I don’t believe it.  Everyone answers to someone.  Especially a mage.” Sirius glared at Draco, his stormy grey eyes swirling as they stared Draco down.  The eyes narrowed, becoming pointed and sharp, gaining a maniacal look that made him think of…

He gasped.

“Sirius?  Sirius Orion Black?  The Black Mage?  Cousin to Queen Narcissa of Slytherdor and Bella the Mad?”

Sirius’ spoon clattered down and he stood up, towering over Draco, “Just how do you know all of that?”

Remus stood up and put a calming hand on Sirius’ arm.

“I know that because you are my cousin,” Draco said carefully.  “My mother is Queen Narcissa.”

“Impossible!  Her son is King of Slytherdor!  He would not be traipsing around the Lupine Mountains!  Malfoy’s don’t desert their kingdom!”

Draco stood up so sharply his stool fell backwards.

“What do you mean, impossible?  I am here, so it is clearly possible!  As for deserting my kingdom, I left it in very capable hands.  Besides, I would give up my entire kingdom if it would only bring about an end to my quest.”

“And, what is your quest, your Majesty?” Remus asked quietly.

A lump formed in Draco’s throat, but he swallowed sharply, forcing back the tears that were attempting to come, “To find that which is most precious to me.  They were stolen, taken by false words I had no part in.  Words written by a terrible fiend that I fear is behind the continued suffering of the one I love with all my heart.”

Remus leaned over and whispered something in Sirius’ ear, and the two men slowly sat back down.  Draco looked at them and then picked up his own stool and sat.

They ate in silence.

When they were finished Remus fetched a pile of furs and gave them to Crabbe, who prepared sleeping places in front of the banked fire.

Then the two men disappeared up the ladder and Draco curled up before the fire.  He fell asleep thinking of his children and the dark-haired man he’d lost - just as he had every night since he’d left the palace.

XXX

_Later That Night…_

A quiet cough made Harry look up to see Sirius standing in the passage outside of the cozy cave Harry shared with the children.

Children that were finally sound asleep.

He nodded at Sirius and rose quietly to his feet.  Just for the novelty of it, he reached back and tied his hair back with his hands.  Funny that it was Voldemort’s research into creating half-human monsters that had allowed Harry to regrow his hands.  To regain his hands thanks to the same man that had caused him to lose them...life was but an endless circle.

With that thought he followed Sirius down the passageway and towards the small stable.

Sirius stopped outside the leather door covering and turned to look at Harry, his face never before having looked so grave, “Harry, we got a visitor tonight.”

Harry felt his heart stop, “Who?”

“He claimed his name was Draco.”

His heart restarted, but now it was going to fast, racing ahead, working so loudly he could hear nothing but his own blood.

“Im-impossible!” he choked out.

Warm arms surrounded him, patting him, comforting him like he had always wished his aunt and uncle would.

Slowly his heart rate lowered and he was able to make out Sirius’ words.

“Shhh, it’s alright Harry.  Remus and I are here for you.  You don’t have to see him.  Remus thinks he’s looking for you.  Said something about false words.  About losing what he loved most.”

Tears burned at Harry’s eyes, “F-f-false words? But… Oh, gods!  Him!  Snake-man! It-it had to be his doing!   Lord Voldemort!”

His entire world tilted, but Sirius held him steady.

He’d been so worried that Voldemort would attack the people he cared about at Slytherdor, he had failed to suspect that he would hurt Harry.  Hurt him in a way that could not be protected against with magic.

And the children…

Harry let out a huge wrenching sob.

He had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

And now he had to fix it.

XXX

_The Next Morning…_

A quiet whispering woke Draco.  He frowned and turned, trying to block the noise out, but it didn’t work.

Grumbling, he sat up and looked around.  

Sunlight shone through the glass windows, illuminating an empty cabin.

Empty except for…

A trapdoor in the far corner sat open, almost invitingly so.

“Anyone here?”

No one answered him, so he climbed to his feet and straightened his clothes as best he could before tying his now shaggy hair back.

Cautiously, he approached the trap door.

Light blazed from below, so he carefully climbed down the ladder.  The whisperings grew louder at the bottom.  Turning around in what appeared to be a stone passageway he found where the noise appeared to be coming from.

He followed the sound until he turned a corner and found himself in a mid-sized cavern.

The sight before him left him rooted to the ground, unable to speak a word.

Harry.

Scorpius.

Carina and Ara.

And…

His children were playing.  Touching things.  No pain on their delicate features.  No scars covering their skin in pain.

A great sob welled up within him, but it wouldn’t emerge.  He felt it begin to choke him, but he could do nothing about it.

After so long…

Harry looked up then, his brilliant emerald eyes meeting Draco’s.

No words were said, but Draco knew he was forgiven.  Knew that Harry understood there was no blame at fleeing.

No blame at all.

Draco reached out for Harry, but Harry shook his head and looked at the three silver-haired children now staring at Draco

Draco soaked in the faces of his children, memorizing every little detail that had changed since he saw them last. They must barely remember him, it had been so long…

But…

He took a step forwards, unsure how to proceed.

Scorpius stepped forwards and swept into a proper bow, “Good morning, Father.  Did you sleep well?”

Draco nodded, tears coming to his eyes.  Tears that began to fall as Carina and Ara gave proper little curtsies, only wobbling a tiny bit. And gave him a sweet, “Good morning, Father.”

Draco fell to his knees and opened his arms.  They hesitated for a moment, then all three of them looked up at Harry, who nodded and made a shooing motion with his hands.  They rushed to him, and he held them close, regretting all the time he had lost.  After a moment he felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder and he cried all the harder.

He couldn’t explain it.  He couldn’t explain any of it, but he didn’t care.

He had found those that he had sought for so long.  He had that which was most precious to him.  He was here, with his children in his arms and Harry beside him, his hand resting on Draco’s-

Wait.

His hand?

He jerked away falling backwards.  Harry didn’t have hands.

Was he dreaming?

Was he dead?

“Draco?  What’s wrong?”

“You-you can’t be Harry!”

The not-Harry frowned in just the same way Harry always had and Draco’s heart did a flip.

“Of course I’m Harry.  Why do you-” he looked down at his hands and then froze, “Oh.  The hands.”

“Yes, the hands!  My Harry had no hands!  Who are you?”

The not-Harry’s frown flipped upside down to form a blinding smile, “My Harry?”

“Father,” said Scorpius, “He is Harry!  When we came here we were taken in by Mage Sirius and Wolf Remus.  They’ve spent many many many years studying and taking apart things and fixing things.  They fixed Harry’s hands!”

“But…”. Draco was at a loss of words.

Harry held put his hand towards Draco, who could but stare at the extraordinary appendages.

They were silver, but slowly merged with the flesh of Harry’s forearms, as if they had always done so.  The fingers twitched and suddenly Harry was wearing a very familiar coat, one with excess fabric that hid his hands from view.

Tears sprang to Draco’s eyes.  Tears of pure and utter happiness as Harry spoke.

“Please, Draco, trust me.  We met in your garden as I stole emerald apples.  We first kissed there.  After Mage Snape walked off with the silver seeds.  Your mother gave me a set of silver hands, to teach Scorpius, Carina, and Ara how to cast safely.  Remus and Sirius used some of Lord Voldemort’s foul, but brilliant, methods to make them mine permanently.  The same methods that merged Remus with a wolf.  The main difference being that I was a willing participant.”

So many questions bubbled up inside of Draco, but the one that came out was perhaps the most inconsequential in their current conversation, “Remus is part wolf?”

Harry nodded, “Lord Voldemort - the same mage that killed my parents, cost me my hands, and tricked me into fleeing with the children - liked to experiment with magic.  He was a large part of why I almost didn’t agree at first to Slytherdor.  I suspect he hoped your mother would actually follow the orders in the letter and slay us all.  Sirius says he doesn’t understand love.”

Draco’s eyes flew from Harry’s face and then back to the three children, before returning once more.  If his mother had been like her sister, Bella the Mad Mage…his blood froze at the thought.

No, he couldn't think that way.  He had found those that mattered most to him, and he wouldn’t lose them again.

He took Harry’s hand, and let himself be pulled to his feet.  He didn’t let go, but held on, running his fingers over the surprisingly warm and flesh-like silver.  They felt so real…

“Harry…” It came out as more of a croak, but that didn’t matter.  

It really was Harry.

He threw himself into Harry’s arms, pulling him close and just hanging on, treasuring the feel of Harry’s goatee brushing his neck.  Breathing in the scent of Harry, something sweet and earthy.

“I love you,” he whispered into Harry’s long black hair.

He was pulled tighter, “I love you, too.”

XXX

_Many Years Later…_

Harry rolled onto his back and stretched, feeling his muscles pull and his joints pop.  Brilliant sunlight filtered in through the half-open curtains, illuminating the richly furnished room.

He smiled, the morning after the longest night of the year was always precious to him.

A light groan sounded next to him and Harry rolled over to gaze down at his deliciously naked husband.  

He propped himself up onto one elbow, still marveling at the ability to do so, even after having hands again for so many years.  Then, slowly, carefully he reached out and ran a single silver finger down Draco’s chest.  

Draco shuddered when Harry reached his abdomen, and then released a small moan as the silver finger continued its journey down.

His fingers moved, eliciting more moans from the rapidly waking Draco.  Harry smiled, and then, because his hands did not have the same range of feeling as the rest of his skin, he leaned down and replaced them with his mouth.

A ragged cry tore from Draco’s lips and pale fingers became tangled in Harry’s long, dark hair.  Fingers that pushed and pressed, urging on Harry’s movements, until, finally, Draco let out one final cry.

Then Harry was kissing him, their tongues dancing, just as they had danced together the night before at the Victory Ball.  After so many years, Lord Voldemort was finally dead and defeated.  No more would he torture and kill at will.  No more would he tear apart families and spread deceit.

He was gone.

But Harry was still here.  Here with the man he loved and-

He froze and lifted his head up.  Then he flicked his fingers and dressing gowns wrapped themselves around the King and his consort.  Just in time to stop two pairs of little eyes, and three not so little pairs from seeing more than they should.

“I told you,” Carina said, looking at her two fathers turn a rather guilty shade of red.

“No, you didn’t,” Ara said, “You said we would find them naked.  So I win.”

Scorpius groaned, “Father, please tell me you have found spouses for the two of them.  I swear I will die if I have to spend another year living with them.”

Harry didn’t get a chance to reply (not that he really planned to), as the two youngest ran across the room and leapt onto the bed.

“Good morning, Daddy!” James said, his obsidian-like eyes glittering under a head of unruly black hair.  Harry reached out and ruffled his hair, returning the morning greetings

His sister, Lily, had followed him onto the bed, but she said nothing, merely crossing her arms and glaring at them.

Harry sighed, Pansy had been a good fit for him to have children with, like with Astoria Greengrass and Draco, their magic meshed well, as did their looks.  But as for personality…

He really didn’t understand his daughter at times.

But...he smiled, Draco always did.

“Yes, Lily, we’re getting up.  Today is a special day, after all.”

With these words Draco climbed out of bed and waved at the fireplace, causing the flames to shoot upwards and warm the room.

Harry climbed off the bed with James and Lily,

He made a shooing motion at the five youngsters, “You go wait in the next room.  We’ll get dressed and be out in a moment.”

When the door clicked shut he snuck over and pulled Draco back into his arms.

“Happy Anniversary,” he whispered.

The King gave a rough chuckle, “Happy Anniversary to you as well.  Sadly, I fear you will have to wait for my gift until later.  It’s not really appropriate to share around the children.”

Harry gave him a quick kiss, “That’s alright.”

“Good, now, be off with you, or we’ll regain our audience.”

Harry let go of Draco, chuckling.  Indeed, their children were usually very patient, but on today, the day they had become a family…

Well, he couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend every moment together, because he wanted to as well.

With that thought in mind her hurried into the dressing room and became moving his fingers, summoning clothes and hair ties.  Then he turned to find Draco only half-dressed, struggling with the ties on his robes.

Harry gave a light laugh and went over to help him - just like he did every morning; just like he would quite happily continue to do every morning for forever after.  


End file.
